


Red Lyrium

by geekyjez



Series: Isii Lavellan [13]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Red Lyrium, Redcliffe, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2892059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas has spent a year in his cell at Redcliffe- haunted by his thoughts as the red lyrium tears through his body. When the woman he thought was dead comes to his rescue, he will do anything not to fail her for a second time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Lyrium

The perception of time was a fragile thing.

His grasp of the way mortals held onto it was already strained, twisted and stretched. Hours lingered, limping languidly into days. The walls of his cell provided no source of sunlight, no way to mark the rise and fall. How long had it been? Months? Years? Centuries? No. That couldn’t be right. He knew it couldn’t be. But the enduring terror remained, buzzing in his mind. If they left him here, forgot him here, he would live on. A so-called god in a poisoned body. How long would he last in that state? His uncertainty made him long for death, some way to end it before finding out.

This was a hell of his own making.

He did not have to be told who this Elder One was. He was no fool. He knew who tore the sky open long before any of these mortals. And he knew how he had come by the means to do so.

Solas had allowed this to happen. All of this. He had allowed the orb to fall into the hands of a madman. He had allowed the destruction of the Conclave. He had allowed the anchor to become buried into her hand.

And he had allowed her to die.

Just the thought of it set his teeth on edge, glaring and snarling at the corner of his cell. He had been standing right there. She was within arm’s reach before Dorian stepped between them. There was nothing he could have done but die alongside her – though now that sounded like the better option. If he had been at his full strength, the power he once had before his slumber, Alexius’ small mind would not have been able to comprehend the level of pain Solas would have put him through. He would have unleashed his wrath, forced the mage to truly understand why there were those who trembled at his true name, who worshiped him as a god to be feared.

But instead he was captured, thrown in a cell and forgotten.

Thoughts of her haunted him. Images, loosely shuffled. The flash of teeth as she laughed. Lightning from her staff casting purpled shards of light across her dark skin. Gripping her wrist, feeling that intense surge of energy passing over his hand as she sealed that first rift. The softness and warmth when he would heal her wounds with the brush of his fingers. The sound of her voice when she spoke in Elvish, echoing the comfort of a home he would never know again.

He should have told her how he felt. He thought of each of the moments they shared and all of the ways it could have been more. How he cared for her. Treasured her. He had been denying it then, trying to bury it deep behind the mask he wore. But now he couldn’t escape his feelings for her. They pursued him. Cornered him. Tortured him. He could not deny that watching her die somehow felt worse than bringing about the end of the world. 

He shut his eyes, pressing the back of his head against the rough stone until his skull ached. The lyrium burned behind his eyelids, filled his throat with the ever-present taste of blood. He paced, trying to alleviate the stiffness of his muscles with aimless movement. He had tried, in earlier days, to avoid the red lyrium. He filled the hours with experimentation, attempting to use magic to manipulate the living mineral. Yet the slow creeping growth pursued him, pressing him back by inches, day by day, until he would tremble from exertion, no longer able to hold any barriers against it.

And then the corruption began.

First, his skin would itch. It was not a tingle like the presence of the Fade, but a raking and clawing burn. Then the swollen ache beneath his fingernails as if each nail bed wished to expel his cuticles by force. It had been excruciating at the time, but if he focused his mind he could distance himself from the pain.

There was no escaping it now. The pain was constant. It sank into every pore, hollowed out his insides. He could feel the lyrium growing and shifting beneath his flesh. It was only a matter of time. He could already sense the pressure, the ever-present ache. One day, it would press through, tear through muscle and bone until it could emerge from the surface of his skin. He wondered how long it would take before the growth completely consumed him. For a mortal, they would find some relief in death eventually. For him, he was uncertain.

He avoided the Fade. He could not bear to see what it had become: a jagged, dark place reflecting what had become of the world outside his cell. Spirits would cry out to him – his friends, pleading and worried. They felt the pull of the Elder God and it frightened them. They told him of the world outside, how it had changed in his absence – the death of the Empress, the invasion of the southern lands. He could do nothing for them and mourned each passing as he watched them whither into their new forms. A spirit of Justice, once so noble and kind became a monstrous self-righteous Vengeance. Hope’s light and purity faded into the shadowy howling Despair. All left him to serve in the Elder One’s army of demons.

This was his doing.

He had betrayed them all.

He turned at the subtle rattle of metal behind him. Perhaps it was his jailers again, checking on the state of the growth. He knew they intended to harvest the lyrium from him eventually. He vowed he would freeze them to their core when they finally came for him, blast them with enough energy to blacken their skin as their cells died and hardened into crystals of ice. It would be a petty cruelty. Perhaps they would kill him for it. He would welcome that now.

When he turned, his heart stopped. Time itself was torn asunder. His mind was lost. It wasn’t possible. Not probable. The dead could not rise again. This had to be an illusion.

She stood before him, lingering at the open door of his cell. There was horror on her face, pain and concern, her green eyes wide and searching. He did not speak, did not move, took her in through the gleaming red light that hazed over his vision, looked for some flaw, some sign to confirm his suspicions. This had to be a trick. A cruel trick. And he would kill whoever was behind it.

“Mythal, emma isala’eth.” He heard her whisper the prayer, hidden under shocked breaths, and she was suddenly made real, made flesh. His beautiful foolish woman and her faith in hollow gods. Perhaps it was weakness, but he could not help but believe she was really there. He had to. “Solas?”

“You’re alive?” As soon as the words passed from his lips, his mind was able to capture their meaning. She was alive. The relief was shattering, maddening, ungovernable. He nearly let out a shaking laugh, his chest tight, his eyes stinging. He wanted to touch her, to feel she was real, to rush forward and slate his mouth over hers so he could prove to himself that she was still breathing.

“What have they done to you?” Her voice quivered as she spoke. She stepped forward cautiously but he shied away.

“Stay back.”

She peered at him. “I’m not going to hurt you, Solas.”

“No, it’s…” He took a deep breath. Composure. Control. He had to still his thoughts even as they raced past him. “It is the lyrium. I am contaminated. You should keep your distance.” He spoke to her as he spoke before, the mask creeping back into place. “How did you survive?”

“The spell Alexius cast displaced us in time.” Dorian explained with a shrug. “We just got here, so to speak.”

Displaced in time? Solas’s mind tried to work over the concept. He had never known such a thing could be done. The things he could have achieved with such power…

“Can you reverse the process?” Dorian gave a noncommittal nod. “Then it may not be too late.”

“You’re not well.” She said, concern creasing her brow. “Is there anything we can do to-”

“I am dying, vhenan.” She searched his face, overwhelmed. Whether startled by the revelation or by his choice of wording, it mattered little. He lost nothing now in being honest with her about how he felt. He had lost any chance of happiness with her, but at least there remained the possibility that this could all be undone. As long as she lived, he could cling to that small hope. “There is nothing to be done for it. I will do whatever I can for you. If there is even a chance that we could stop this from ever happening…” He paused, correcting the waver in his throat. “My life is yours.”

None of the words that had ever passed his lips held more truth than those.

***

“Give me an hour to work out the spell he used and I should be able to reopen the rift.”

Solas felt his stomach drop. Leliana gave voice to his concerns before he could speak. “An hour?!” She snapped. “That’s impossible. You must go now.”

The ground shook beneath them, loose stones shifting from the crumbling walls, a sharp pang of fear striking his chest. A hellish scream thundered overhead. The Elder One. Or rather, his pet.

“You cannot stay here.” He shouted. “If there is any hope, any chance, you have to leave.” He watched Isii, saw the panic on her face. She was overwhelmed. Overrun. He knew what was coming. If Corypheus knew of her presence, he would come for her, send his demons after her. They would be drawing close, even now. She needed to be protected at all costs.

“We’ll hold the outer door.” He said, glancing to Blackwall. The Warden had said nothing since his release, his eyes worn, withdrawn. The time in the cells had clearly drained the man. A momentary recognition passed over his weary features. The soldier understood what had to be done. He gave a nod. “When they get past us, it will be your turn.”

Isii shook her head, horrified. “It’s suicide. I won’t let you.”

“I’m not giving you a choice.”

Her eyes were wet, her voice pinched. “Solas, don’t do this.”

“I won’t let you die again, vhenan!” There was a snarl behind his voice, his calm mask slipping as the first tear fell to her cheek. He would have given anything to reach out for her, to touch her, to kiss her for the first and last time and have that taste fresh on his lips as he faced his fate. If the lyrium did not burn within him, he would have given into the impulse, not caring that he would let her see what he had been trying to hide from her in the past she would be returning to. It would be better that way. She would know. She would seek him out, force him to lower his guard.

If only he could touch her.

He turned then, stalking toward the exit, steeling himself for what lay ahead. He could hear her breathing falter, heard her calling to him but he could not waver.

She had to live. She could go back. She could fix this. They would have a second chance.

He knew how precious second chances could be.

Solas was not a man of faith. If he thought anyone was listening, he would pray to them now, telling them to guide him in this new timeline she would create. He had denied himself the one thing that he wanted, tried to ignore what this woman stirred in him, fearing the future that would come if he gave in.

No possible future could be worse than this. He was determined that he would find a new path that would lead him back to her.

He wouldn’t make that same mistake twice.

***

Leliana’s prayer rang out over the din as the doors crashed open. Isii watched, her heart sinking as she saw the soldiers rush forward. The spymaster would be overrun and quickly. Her eyes searched beyond the exit but neither Solas nor the Warden were in sight. Dorian worked frantically, scowling in concentration. An arrow found its mark in Leliana’s chest but the woman kept fighting. Time was running out.

Mythal, protector, keep me safe. Keep them safe. Please let him be—

Then, she saw and all thought left her. The demon, long-limbed and lumbering, the dead elf clutched in its hand. It tossed the corpse aside as it entered, Solas’s body hitting the stone floor with a wet thud.

She was screaming then, shaking, rushing forward, her legs feeling weak. Dorian grabbed her arm, bruising her under his grip. “You move and we all die!”

The rippling wave of energy opened the rift behind them. She shared a look with the Tevinter mage. She could see doubt there.

This might not even work.

She stole one last look behind her, glancing just in time to see the demon’s cruel claws sink through the woman’s armor, tearing away flesh as it withdrew.

She closed her eyes, trying to still her trembling. If this worked, they would all live. She recited a silent prayer, letting herself fall through the rift.

***

She curled up near the base of the tree, shivering in the cold. The woods outside of Haven were peaceful. A good place to think, to seek solitude. She could not say it reminded her of home. The trees were wrong. Their bark crumbled too easily. The wind groaned through the branches here, hissed as it forced the limbs to shake off soft plumes of snow. They did not have the soft leathery leaves that she used to rub idly between her fingers, pressed by the gentle warm breezes she yearned for. Still, there was a familiarity in being away from the shemlen and their Chantry. She felt more herself here.

The others were treating Redcliffe as a victory. The mood in Haven was bright, despite the reservations of some of the former Templars in their ranks. She could not join them in their optimism. The horrors she witnessed in Redcliffe chilled her. None other than Dorian could understand what that experience had been. Working alongside him and his willingness to join the Inquisition lessened her reservations about the man, but she could not speak her mind with him. He was a stranger, a shem, a Tevinter.

She had to face these thoughts alone.

Seeing Solas in that future had pained her, frightened her. He had been almost manic when he first saw her, unhinged and feverish. Even when his tone settled, he struggled to maintain his composure, as if his careful reserve was a thin façade that had cracked and peeled away. He was rattled, unbalanced. There was a feral quality to his reddened eyes. He called her vhenan with his broken voice.

It was so different from the man she knew. Solas was a steadying influence in all this madness. He was always composed and thoughtful. He was one of the few people here she felt she could rely on given his willingness to aid her in her various tasks. Even as he kept himself available for her guidance, he was still a very private person. Distant. She could get him talking for hours on the nature of magic and the Fade, but any time the conversation would drift in another direction, he withdrew. She had always assumed that any interest he showed in her was merely academic. She was an anomaly, after all. A mortal who physically walked through the Fade, marked by the anchor. She had always assumed that he only wished to study her.

But he had called her vhenan.

She heard his approach, recognized him by the familiar sound of his steps. Bootless feet moving in time with the tap of his staff. “I thought I might find you out here.”

“A Dalish sitting out in the woods. It’s not a difficult deduction.”

His smile was subtle as he shrugged. “I suppose it is not.”

She looked away, quietly studying the horizon. Seeing him was both comforting and unsettling. She was back in her own time, back to a Solas who was not broken and crazed. Yet she could not look at him without seeing that other face, frightening in its defeated desperation.

“So you have gained the mages.” He began, his voice as calm and grounding as ever. “An excellent choice. With their assistance, you should be able to seal the Breach.”

She said nothing, responding only with a small hum.

“You should be pleased, yet you appear not to be.”

“In Redcliffe, you said I was gone for only a moment?”

He nodded. “A terrifying one at that, but yes. Alexius said a few threatening words, but could do little else. We did not have the opportunity to begin fighting in earnest before the rift reopened.”

She looked down, picking at her fingertips. “It was longer for me.”

“As you have said.” He sat down in front of her, legs tucked neatly, his posture rigid and still. “Are you certain you experienced time travel? Could it have been an illusion? A trick of the Fade?”

“It was real.” She insisted. His brow tightened slightly in annoyance but soon released.

“Such an unquestioning statement of fact. But I will not deny you your certainty as I was not there.” His gaze shifted, distant, mulling over the concept. “The manipulation of time itself is not something I have ever considered possible. The things that could be achievable with such an ability are staggering to contemplate. If I could learn how Alexius discovered it…” His eyes met hers again and she watched him step away from whatever path his thoughts were leading him down. “I am certain we all have things in our past we would erase if given the opportunity.”

She nodded, her eyes lowering to her knees. “You were there. In Redcliffe’s future. I freed you from one of the cells in the Keep. You were… not well.” She added, choosing her words carefully.

His eyes narrowed. “And that troubled you?”

She looked up at him, incredulous. “Of course it did. It still does.”

He silently studied her face, his own expression giving away nothing. “It matters little now. Whatever passed in that future no longer exists. You should channel whatever feelings that experience gave you into stopping this Elder One. You have now interfered with his plans twice. Once at the Temple of Sacred Ashes and now again at Redcliffe.” His eyes narrowed knowingly. “A being who aspires to godhood is unlikely to ignore such an affront. This I am certain of.”

She nodded. She knew what she wanted to say, but she hesitated in bringing it up. “I watched you die for me.” His reaction to this was barely perceivable. A slight shift in his brow, a subtle movement in his lip, but nothing more. Sometimes she found it maddening how unreadable he was. So often he was still and silent, carefully taking in what was around him yet offering little in return. “I know it is strange to thank you for something you haven’t done, but…” She let the thought trail off with no completion, hoping her meaning was understood. He had been willing to sacrifice his life for her. Eager to, in fact. But that had been from a man a full year separate from the one she was thanking. Perhaps that willingness came from something her own version of Solas did not yet possess.

He bowed his head briefly, lifting himself to his feet. “You are right. I cannot take your thanks for something I have not done. But I am grateful that I was able to help you achieve your ends.” He offered his hand to her. “We should return to Haven. I know the others are eager to begin planning our strategy for sealing the Breach.”

She took his hand, allowing him to help her to her feet. It was cold, chilled by the mountain air, but still pleasant to hold. She felt her thumb instinctively stroke his skin but he withdrew his grip, turning toward the path.

She quietly followed.

The other Solas had called her vhenan. That man was lost to her now. Whatever had happened to him in that passing year, it must have created that feeling within him.

She saw no trace of it in him now.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note:  
> I both enjoyed and struggled with writing him from her perspective in the final scene. At this point, Solas is still keeping his distance and keeping his thoughts to himself. He is already starting to feel this deep attachment to her, but is trying to ignore it. There is a reason why him calling her Lethallan in Haven Falling is surprising to her. Even though Lethallan is a relatively minor term of endearment, it still indicates a level of intimacy that he has never shown an interest in before.
> 
> And special thanks over to TeawithLin over on Youtube - without those videos of Solas in Redcliffe, I would have had a much harder time piecing together my version of his dialogue. 
> 
> ***
> 
> Translation:
> 
> Mythal, emma isala eth – Mythal, I am in need of your safety/protection.
> 
>  
> 
> ***
> 
> You can find me at geeky-jez.tumblr.com if you'd like. Feel free to follow and/or send me a message!


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